Last Sunday I studied the lyrics of REVERENTLY AND MEEKLY NOW as we prepared to take the sacrament. Something about this particular hymn stood out to me in a beautiful way. This song is written in first-person as if Jesus were speaking, but not like His usual direct quotes that come from the scriptures. It seemed more like poetry and art than doctrine. And I loved it. The words stirred inside of me.
Does anyone else feel like there's a hidden fear to stray from exact scripture and doctrine? And I don't mean this question in a "go and preach false doctrine" kind of way... Ew. That makes me feel icky.
I mean, I don't know, I feel like when Christ was on the earth He always spoke in parables or metaphors to make us have to do the interpreting. Maybe his words touched different people in different ways based on their personal experiences. I don't know where I'm going with this....
I guess I'm saying that I appreciate art and interpretation of gospel topics: Enlighten those strengthening feelings of our testimonies with sparks of imagination and creativity.
I found myself pondering the sacrament in a new way that day. My mind traveled back to memories of my baptism day. I tried to grasp what it truly meant to be clean and pure, washed away of ones sins. How does one put into words the sensation of being white and completely stainless? A picture was painted in my mind and although it won't be found in scripture or sunday school lesson manuals, this is what the atonement means to me...
Above
me, diamonds splashed over the heavy chandeliers and dilated my senses with its
unquestioning demand for respect.
The sunlight soaked through the surrounding stain glassed windows,
radiating the energy of life fueled from its warming source.
My
skin felt as soft as the silk, white dress that draped from my shoulders to my
toes, dressing my elbows and wrists. This body, the protector of my tissued spirit, seemed
awake enough to fly through an entire wooded forest yet feasted on the calmness
that flowed through the room.
I
was alone. But had never felt less
lonely. My heart seemed crowded
with the attention and love that bubbled through the emptiness. With no one there to observe or follow,
my tiptoed feet crept in front of me, making up their own mind with no need for
direction. I wandered the open
space adoring the terrific scene.
A
whisper of subconscious emotions pulled me towards the closed doors that sealed
my atmosphere’s perfect borders.
The cushion of my palms pressed against the solid frame and gently swung
open my pleasant, soothing obstacle.
A
distinct gravitational pull soared me through the empty hallways longing to
find a hidden treasure. Somewhere
in my prison of solitude, I sensed one, and only one, single individual that
lingered inside here with me. My
heart raced, longing to find Him.
I
explored all of the quiet rooms, climbed the crystal clear, spiral staircase,
and rushed past every closet and secret space until I came upon the hidden
doorway of the highest floor.
The
dark room was cracked open with traces of candlelight and quiet hummings of
reverent melodies seeping out the thin lines of the opening doorway. I peeled open the blocking bolder that rested
against its entrance and studied the precious scene that awaited inside.
There
He was. I recognized His soul
before even glancing at his face.
He knelt alone with His eyes pressed above to His almightly God in the
throne of the stars. And I wept.
... I asked my hubby to read this before posting to tell me what he thought and he told me it sounded like I was playing hide-and-go-seek in the temple with Jesus.
"Maybe I am, Mitchell... Maybe I am."
Art. Interpretation.
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